


That Glorious World Above the Stars

by Mister_Spock



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Gen, Hair-pulling, Hurt!Spock, I think I covered everything!, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, No suicidal tendencies, OCD, Obsessive Behavior, Pulling hair out, Self-Harm, Stress, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5773546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mister_Spock/pseuds/Mister_Spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is haunted by the Vulcan he is supposed to be and hated by the human within him.<br/>Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Glorious World Above the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the reboot universe but with some differences which are not made clear in the story (just because I didn't want to go through and make is super long).  
> Timeline is the same except Spock accepts his position at the VSA. Kirk joins Starfleet and just learns the ropes and works his way up rather than instantly becoming Captain. That's probably all you need to know for the story to work. 
> 
> Thank you to Praxid, who came up with 'The Little Mermaid' when I needed a book to reference for a part of this story. It turned out to have some wonderful parallel's to what I wanted to achieve for this story of Spock. 
> 
> Warnings again in case you ignore the tags: Self harm, obsessive compulsive disorder, anxiety, stress, suicidal thoughts, hair pulling, mental health, depression. 
> 
> Kirk/Spock friendship, McCoy/Spock friendship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_'“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes, the sun will rise, and you must die.” And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves.'_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had once been a dagger of diplomatic or Royal importance.

That was what the description beneath it said. That did not interest him, however. The golden sheath covered the sword, white handle wrapped in delicate gold trimming. A crest on the handle, decorative markings across the sheath, the blade itself sturdy and sharp, silver glistening in the light.

“I shall take this one,” he said, eyes never leaving the impressive blade.

“Very good, Sir.” the man said, disappearing with the valuable item. He walked to the desk and carefully wrapped the item.

Spock stepped to the counter, credit chip clutched in his hand but eyes fixed past the shopkeepers head. Two large cabinets of old antique books stood behind him. Some battered and worn, others in much better condition. But he only had eyes for one book. A familiar spine, words printed clearly. He'd never forget the way that book looked.  
He moved round to the cabinet, able to point to the book that had captivated his attention. “I also require this book.”

“Sir, an excellent choice. However, it is an antique book, a collector's piece and is therefore rather costly. Would you like to know the number of credits required before you purchase it?”

“It does not matter. I must have it.”

~

Spock looked at his quarters.

The room was small but contained everything he would need.  
He had left Vulcan in such haste he had barely taken anything except for two Vulcan robes he owned and nothing else.  
He had purchased any other items he had required that the ship would not be able to provide for him.

“Mr Spock?”  
He turned to find Captain Pike stood at the doorway. “Is everything okay with the room.”

“Affirmative, Captain.”

“I look forward to working with you, Mr Spock. The scientific mind of a Vulcan will be a welcome addition to the crew.”

The Captain left him alone afterwards and Spock placed his few belongings away.  
The book went in a drawer beside his bed and the dagger was pushed into the back of a cupboard so even he might forget it was there.

Out of sight, but never out of mind.

~

On his first night on the ship, Spock pulled out the old antique book and searched for the story he wished to read.

It was the same as the copy his Mother had, hers an heirloom, passed down through generations. She would read the stories to him as a young child until his Father had protested that the human book was an illogical choice for a Vulcan child.  
Her lips tightened and she nodded her agreement with her husband. She closed the book and hugged it to her chest.

Once his Father left them that night, she sat with him in his room and smiled at him. He closed his eyes and sleep was threatening to take him away when she whispered softly, maybe to herself “Every step feels as if I am stepping on sharp knives. Yet I will bear all this.”  
At the time he did not understand.  
She tucked the book away. He saw it on a shelf but he never saw it opened again.

As he read through her favourite story, one he knew by heart, he understands her enjoyment of this story, The Little Mermaid. A Princess who gave up everything she knew and stepped painfully into a new world for love.  
He wished he had her bravery.

~

Spock had been off duty during Pike's accident.

He knew it must be serious because the ship changed course and headed back to Earth at warp speed.  
The Beta shift was called up to take over and he remembered the overwhelming grief he felt from the crew that were leaving.

Some of the humans who were relieving the crew hugged others, he smelt the salt, thick in the air.  
But he said nothing. Just went to the Science station and monitored as he was expected too.

Much later, they reached Earth and the crew were gathered. They were to remain on Earth for one week leave.  
The crew was encouraged to seek help if they needed it and replacements would be found for anyone who wished to remain on Earth.

It was during this break Spock was offered the role of First Officer. With his reluctance to leave his Scientific posting, they allowed him to try to do both on the basis his performance would be reviewed in six months. He accepted their terms.

One week later he stepped on board the Enterprise as the First Officer underneath the new Captain, James T Kirk.

~

“So how are you settling in, Jim?” Bones asked sipping the hot coffee. He was on a break from his shift in sickbay, which was thankfully quiet right now. However, there was always work to be done. Physicals to schedule and new treatments to work on due to a number of new diseases space had to offer.

“Still finding my way round. And the names keep escaping me. I feel bad every time I have to ask some Ensign for their name.”

“I don't think anyone expects a Captain to know the whole crew in his first week, Jim. Especially with the circumstances,” McCoy added.

Jim sobered quickly. “Have you heard anything else about Pike?”

“Nothing new. He's off the critical list but they're still staying 'life changing' injuries, which could mean so many different things, but all of them pretty bad.”

Kirk contemplated Pike's situation. It was clearly a very tragic turn of events and he was slightly haunted by what he'd heard. His lost gaze was eventually caught by his First Officer, Mr Spock, as he walked across with his tray of food to a far table and sat alone to eat, much like he always did. A real creature of habit, Kirk would say.  
“Was he like that when Pike was here?” Kirk asked nodding towards the Vulcan.

McCoy looked and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Not one for any social interaction really.”

“What's with the.... gown thing?”

“Vulcan robes. He's entitled to wear it when he's not on a shift and he does. All the time.”

“Huh. Weird. I've never seen a Vulcan in robes before.”

“Apparently it's pretty much all they do wear on Vulcan. Your First is considered to be a little 'overly Vulcan' for a fleet craft, according to some.”

“How so?”

“The robes. The strict meditation schedule. Some of the crew have worked with Vulcan's before but never had one so …. Vulcan.”

“Can a human be too human? Would that be a bad thing?”

Bones shrugs. “I don't know Jim.”

“Well, maybe we could cut back on judging him for being who he is. If I hear something like that from anyone, I'll want words.” Jim went to stand up, but Bones stopped him.

“You'll hear it from everyone, Jim. They all think it.”

“Then maybe it's time to remind everyone that this isn't the place to be judging others.” Kirk stood up and walked across to where the Vulcan sat. “Mr Spock, would you mind if I joined you?” he asked, stood waiting for his invitation to be accepted.

Spock looked at the Captain blankly but nodded to the empty seat in front of him. Kirk took the seat offered. Spock folded his hands together on his lap and observed his Captain. “Please, go ahead and eat, I don't wish to disturb you,” Kirk said.

“You have a desire to watch me eat, Captain?” Spock asks.

With a chuckle, Kirk replies “No, of course not. I just thought it would be remiss of me not to join my First Officer for lunch and keep him company. I haven't had a chance so far and thought I would make today the day. I'm sorry, I tend to talk too much if I'm uncomfortable.”

“If you are uncomfortable here, I suggest leaving to find an area where you are more at ease, Captain. It is not necessary to 'keep me company'. I do not require any company to digest food and find it more satisfying to take my lunch alone.”

Kirk was inwardly a little hurt by the dismissal. But he wanted Spock to feel like he fit in here and if eating alone was what he wanted, then that's what he'd do. “That's fine, Mr Spock. I would like to offer an open invitation should you ever feel the need for some company at lunch to join me at my table.”

“Noted, Captain.”

Kirk got up and left the room. He'd barely stepped outside when Bones caught up with him. “Give you the brush off, did he?” McCoy asked, grinning.

“Not really. He prefers to eat alone.”

“Yeah, he prefers to do everything on his own. I wonder why he even works for Starfleet.”

“Well, I'm keen to get to know my crew better. Including Mr Spock.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Luck is for people that don't know what they're doing. I don't need luck.”

~

McCoy had treated his fair share of unusual cases since he joined the Enterprise.

Mostly, people just couldn't keep their hands to themselves. If they went to a new planet and something looked harmless, they'd touch it even knowing it could be dangerous. Sure enough, he'd end up treating someone's weird rash or vomiting caused by eating something just because it looked like something they'd safely eaten before.  
Then there was the lure of aliens. Some alien species were very alluring. Human's were easily tempted, so it seemed. Shore leave was always worse and the few weeks following, when people would come and get a 'thing' looked at.  
But despite all of that, he'd never had a more uncomfortable patient than the only currently on the biobed. He lay there in such a way that made it clear how uncomfortable he was, even if he did just have his usual blank face. There was a tightness to his body that suggested the whole thing was incredibly hard to go through.

He was professional of course, and knowing Vulcan's disapproval for physical touch, he did everything he could to make it tolerable.  
“Okay, everything looks good, compared to the last physical you had. This was back on Vulcan, right?”

“Affirmative.”

He sighed. Jim's First was not easy to get on with. “Well, the results show very little changes in your health, though you have lost a little weight. Are there any issues I can help with?”

“Negative, Doctor.”

“I'm going to need more than that. Is there an issue with the choices from the replicators? The quality? Do I need to find a substitute vitamin boost for you? Tell me something, Spock.”

“There are approximately nine Vulcan meals and twelve varieties of fruits and vegetables to choose from, as well as human foods that are appropriate for Vulcan's to consume. The quality of food is acceptable. I take food when I require it. Vulcan's do not eat for pleasure, but for energy, to survive. Consumption of food is taken only as required.”

McCoy sighed again. Much longer this time. “Okay. As long as you stay in a healthy weight range, I'll go with that for now. I would like to see about getting you some vitamins to boost up anything you lack from being off your home planet. For instance, humans get Vitamin D from sunlight. I assume Vulcan's absorb something from your planets warm atmosphere that you must be missing. Is there some way I can find out this information? Someone on Vulcan who might be able to advise me”

Spock seemed to grow impossibly tighter, his mouth drawing into a tight line. He stayed silent, watching the Doctor with an impassive gaze until eventually, he broke his silence. “I shall find out the required information and inform you of it.”

McCoy nodded. “Works for me. Okay, you're fit to go back on duty.”

“Doctor, am I required to return to my post? I find this activity draining and require meditation.”

McCoy didn't think he could call a simple physical draining but then, he wasn't Vulcan. “Okay. I'll let the Captain know.”

Spock nodded and left Sickbay.

~

Spock felt strangely exposed as he walked the halls towards his quarters in his uniform.

He only wore his uniform for official duty. Any other time he was on the ship, he felt more comfortable in his robes. People avoided him more when he wore his robes, as though he had some greater power while in them. They would step aside. They would not approach and ask him questions.  
That was what he wanted. To be left alone to do his job.

The Captain did not seem to mind what he was wearing though.  
Several times now he had taken the time to speak with Spock if he saw him, in the hallway, or the turbo lift. Spock tried to keep the conversation brief, but the Captain was a curious human and he seemed to have many questions to ask Spock.

Spock found he was in need of a deeper level of meditation after talks with the Captain.  
He had to keep himself in order. Make sure no emotion, no hint of anything close to 'human' slipped from him.  
It was in his records, that he was half human. But no one seemed to mention the fact here. It seemed being Vulcan was bad enough. But if they thought he was just a Vulcan, then they would not look deeper within him.

Because he knew the truth. What lay beneath the layers of robes or Starfleet uniform was an ailing, faulty body. One that he didn't want to ever be seen by anyone else. Neither human nor Vulcan.  
And his mind was in a worse state.  
A deep undercurrent of emotion and pain swirled within him.  
He ignored it.  
He pushed all feelings into the pit of his mind, but it only made the pull stronger, the current gaining strength.

He walked over to his meditation mat and sunk to his knees. Pushing one sleeve up his arm, he grabbed as the hairs on his forearm and started to pull.  
He didn't look as he did it. Just pulled and felt the relief wash over him. All that pressure floating away.

He didn't stop until his mind was calm.

He didn't mean to look, but he caught a glimpse of his arm as he pulled his sleeve back down. The patches of hair missing were noticeable.  
There was no reason for anyone else to notice, he reminded himself. His arm would not be seen.

Inside, the waters slowly began to start churning again.  
He knew the cycle well.  
He knew it never ended.

~

His shoulder throbbed painfully but he made no outward show of discomfort.

McCoy was running the tricorder over him, frowning. “You should be in sickbay,” McCoy muttered.

“I am a Vulcan and do not require medical assistance.”

“The hole in your arm says otherwise.”

“I am Vulcan. I should be allowed the required time to heal myself, as a Vulcan would.”

McCoy huffed, tricorder held by his side uselessly. His instinct was to heal and his patient was doing his best to keep him from doing so.

“A compromise gentlemen?” Kirk said, looking for the easiest solution. He looked to Bones. He needed him to relent to the Vulcan's ways. McCoy shrugged though, an unhelpful gesture.

“Mr Spock, how long will you take to heal?”

“Dependant on how long it takes for me to get into the correct level of healing trance, Captain. The injury is not severe. I suspect I could be sufficiently cleared for duty within two hours.”

“Okay, I'll give you three hours. You report to McCoy after that time, he can make sure you have healed completely and if you are declared fit, you will return to your post on your next shift. Is that a compromise we can all agree on?”

Spock nodded. McCoy sighed and said “Fine,” before he left.

“Get yourself healed up, Mr Spock. I expect to see you on duty tomorrow.”

~

In the safety of his quarters, before he tried to heal his shoulder, Spock pulled at his hair.  
Strong Vulcan grip caught the hairs on his head and pulled until the strands were loose and he was looking at them in-between his fingers.  
This was wrong, he knew.  
He didn't want to be like this. A faulty Vulcan who could not control his impulses.

He moved into the bathroom and washed the hairs away. He rubbed a hand across his face as he stared at his reflection. What was wrong with him? Could he never truly be normal? What was normal for a hybrid like him anyway?  
When he looked down at his hands, he found tiny hairs gripped between his finger and thumb.  
His right eye was missing most of its eyelashes.

~

 

“What happened to you?”

“Captain?”

“Your eye.” He pointed to Spock's right eye.

“I experienced some difficulties in the science lab. It is a mere reflection of my own carelessness.”

“That's not like you.”

“They will regrow.”

“Spock....” Kirk hesitated. “Is everything okay?”

“Things are adequate, Captain.”

“Just adequate?”

“That is enough. I am Vulcan. We do not strive for happiness, Captain.”

“Your human side doesn't desire happiness?”

The surprise hit Spock. So the Captain knew. He hid his reaction, making sure he stayed impassive and blank. “Not when one is raised to be Vulcan.

“Everyone desires happiness, Mr Spock. Even Vulcan's.”

“I must return to my work, Captain. Excuse me.”

~

He combed his hair.

On one side, his hair would not sit right.  
He knew why.  
The bald patch hidden beneath made sure of that. He pushed his hair back and looked at it. He had to get control of himself. If not, before long it would be noticeable to others.  
And he did not know how he could begin to explain this. Not when he didn't understand it himself.

~

He had expected to find solitude in the rec room so early before the alpha shift. He didn't expect to find the Captain there.

He hesitated at his presence, wondering if he should leave. But Kirk shot him a warm, easy smile. Spock proceeded to one of the tables where the chess set was, ready to play against the computer.

“If you care for a challenge, Mr Spock would you enjoy a game against me?” Kirk offered.

“I did not know you played, Captain.”

“I've been known to dabble. Fancy the challenge?”

“Very well,” Spock said.

It was to be the first of many chess games between them.

~

Chess became a regular activity between the pair.

They mostly played in the rec room during early hours.  
Then after some time, Kirk invited Spock to his quarters after shifts for a game. He had been delighted that Spock had taken him up on the offer as he felt that the Vulcan had little socialisation beyond shifts and this would be good for him. He dared not voice the thoughts though, knowing how the Vulcan was.

He kept the small talk to a minimum, knowing Spock wasn't overly talkative at the best of times. When he felt Spock settle in a little more over the next few weeks, he would talk about space exploration, his beliefs in the prime directive, scientific discoveries- anything that he knew Spock would welcome a conversation about.  
Sometimes they almost forgot to continue playing chess they became so absorbed in their discussions.

It was almost a month and a half after their first game that Spock invited Kirk to his quarters for the game. Kirk accepted immediately.

Spock had never requested the Captain's presence and rarely did Kirk ever see anyone go into Spock's quarters.  
Kirk assumed Spock had clearly anticipated the Captain saying yes to the invitation as he had the chess set ready to go, but then he considered how little Spock interacted with others and he had mentioned before how he played against the computer frequently.

Spock offered Kirk tea and he accepted, waiting and observing the room while Spock busied himself.  
There wasn't much to look at, but the few items he had were intriguing. But the one that caught his eye, mostly because it almost seemed out of place was an antique book on Spock's desk, opened part way through as though Spock had been reading it. Maybe he'd been studying it, Kirk wondered.

When Spock passed Kirk his cup, he decided to ask about it. “I see you are studying from a book, Mr Spock. Anything of interest?”

Spock seemed to look at book and Kirk for some time before he tried to answer, his face staying carefully blank. “It is some human literature my Mother was fond of,” he tells him.

Kirk isn't sure how to take this. They'd never talked about Vulcan or Spock's parents and he had no idea of Spock's relationship with them. He needed to tread carefully. “Did she gift it to you?”

“No. I saw a copy and purchased it before I came on board the ship. It was a somewhat... emotional response.”

“Do you have any Vulcan antiques or things you bought with you?”

“I have none, except the robes I wear, though I had many at my parents home. I did not feel it was appropriate to take anything with me.” Spock said. He sipped his tea and waited for Kirk to say something else or make his move with the chess game. Kirk was playing whites this time so had the first move.

“May I ask you a question which is personal but with no obligation to answer if you don't want too?” At Spock's nod, he continued. “Did you part on bad terms with your parents?”

Spock was quiet and thoughtful so long, Kirk was certain he wasn't going to answer. Seconds before he was about to give up and turn his attention to chess, Spock answered his question. “Not with my Mother. However, she is loyal to my Father and will stand beside him, as she should.”

“So things are not good between you and your Father?”

Spock nodded, offering no further insight.

“He knows you joined Starfleet, right?”

“Partly the reason for his displeasure with me.”

“And the other reason?”

“To join Starfleet, I left the Vulcan Science Academy. No Vulcan has ever walked away before.”

Kirk nodded. “I can see why he would be a little upset about that.”

“He disowned me.”

“Disowned you? Because you dropped out of the academy?”

“No Vulcan had done so before.”

“So, he doesn't speak to you now? At all?”

“We have not spoken since I left Vulcan.”

“I don't understand why he would disown you though.”

“You can never understand Jim. You are too human.”

~

 

The shuttle craft had crashed.  
He remembered the alarms blaring warnings and there being nothing any of them could do about it. They were crashing and that's all there was to it.

Spock knew he lost consciousness but he barely had time to recover from that before he was aware of the doors to the craft being opened and being stunned.  
He wasn't unconscious after that, but he was unable to move.

He was sure there was blood. Deep red colouring the floor and he saw no movement from the others.  
Then something was placed over his head and he was in surrounded by darkness.

~

They left him in a dim, sound proof cell with one small window of light higher than he could reach, even if he tried. They provided a bucket of water and some sort of food for nourishments which he ignored. He didn't leave the bed he'd been dumped on when they took him into his cell.  
He mourned the death of the crew. Kirk, McCoy and Sulu, all good people.  
Competent and more deserving to live than he.

By the time a guard was sent to check on him later that day, there was a pile of hair on the pillow.

~

McCoy was surprised when his cell door opened. He'd already had the day's food and water given to him.  
While their captives were not overly attentive, they did at least feed them and offer basic care. He didn't feel in direct danger from them so far.

His opinion on that almost changed when Spock was directed into his cell. McCoy shot up as the Vulcan seemed dazed, disorientated and confused. “What did you do to him?” McCoy demanded as he got up and bought the Vulcan over to the bed he had just vacated. A masked female, flanked by two guards took a step forward.

“We merely wanted hostages for negotiation. The Vulcan reacted badly to the drug he was given. He thought you were all dead and was acting strangely.”  
McCoy had Spock seated on the bed and saw how Spock's hand was clenching and unclenching as though he couldn't control it. “We bring him to you to show him you are not harmed in any way and so that you may fix him as a Doctor. We will leave him in your care. You may ask for anything you require to help him. Knock and speak to the guards and they will bring it.”

With that, she left door closing behind them.

Spock seemed confused as he looked at McCoy, trembling. “Do you know who I am?” McCoy asked.

When Spock looked blankly at him, mouth open but no words coming out McCoy inwardly sighed. “It's okay. Let's get you resting. Let those drugs work there way out of your system.”

~

Spock didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke with Doctor McCoy sat beside him, anxiety clear on his face. “You are unharmed?” Spock asked.

“I'm fine, Spock. What about you?”

“I do not remember,” Spock said pulling his sleeve down in a subconscious act to conceal anything that might concern McCoy. “I believe I am adequate,” he added to reassure the Doctor.

McCoy let out a sigh this time. “Spock, they bought you in with me because you were... distressed. They gave you a drug and it reacted badly with your hybrid biology.”

“That would explain why my memories are not.... clear,” Spock said, choosing his words carefully.

McCoy licked his lips nervously. He wasn't sure how to broach the subject but knew dancing around it wouldn't be any better. Spock was Vulcan. He dealt in facts and plain truths. “Spock, they brought you to me because you pulled half your hair out,” McCoy stated. He'd exaggerated somewhat. There were clear patches of hair missing but it wasn't as pronounced as it could be. He was almost certain he could cover it, with some adjustments.

Spock showed a brief flash of alarm before he clamped his emotions down. “Doctor, I can not be accountable for the way I react to a foreign substance in my body.”

“I know. You're right, that is beyond your control. But I checked while you were sleeping and you have areas where previous damage was done and regrowth hasn't completed yet. This was nothing to do with their drugs, was it?”

“Doctor, are you implying...”

“Stop, Spock. Even now look how you are tugging at your sleeve, so worried I'll see what's underneath it. Is it that bad?”

Spock instantly dropped his hands, turned his head away from McCoy. He couldn't face him, not with the truth exposed like this. He stared at the wall, body rigid, mouth clamped shut.  
For his part, McCoy said nothing. He simply sat beside the Vulcan.

Because it was done. He knew.  
And there was no going back.

~

“Bones! Bones!” Jim yelled as he came rushing into sickbay.

“Would you keep it down, I have sick people here.”

“On your word, Bones. On your word, they're getting away with what they did to Spock.”

McCoy shook his head “I'm not having this conversation out here. Get in my office and wait for me.”

It was barely two minutes before McCoy walked in. he knew this was coming and he started before Kirk could. “Jim, you can see him as well as I can. They didn't touch anyone else, and I don't have any reason to believe that they did that to him.”

“What are you saying, Bones?”

“The second he became distressed, they put him with me because they knew I was a Doctor. They told me that anything I needed was at my disposal to help him. That's not the actions of a group of people who tortured someone. They abducted us, sure. They were using us to barter for help they needed.”

“I get that, Bones. What are you trying to say about Spock?”

He let out a breath. “I think he is suffering from trichotillomania. In layman's terms, he pulls his hair out, especially when he's stressed.”

Jim didn't say anything for a long time until finally, he spoke again. “I didn't think Vulcan's suffered from stress.”

“According to them, they don't. However, I'd bet on the fact that if they do, they go into hiding until they're not stressed anymore. Or they stay in hiding. Spock's just taken the whole thing one step further. He was on Vulcan, he suffers from an illness that urges him to find relief by pulling out his hair, he does it, makes himself feel like a failure as a Vulcan. I mean, they don't talk about anything.”

“Yeah, I've heard they're rather tight-lipped with information.”

“Knowledge is power, I guess. For all we know, this could be a run of the mill thing, just none of them talks about it. Spock got scared enough that he left the planet rather than have someone find out his dirty secret.” McCoy sat down. “It's not something to be cured. We can help him, but sometimes he's just going to have the urge to do a weird thing and all we can do is try and make sure he's supported and understood. That's it. That's everything we can do for him.”

“He told me his Father disowned him for leaving the VSA,” Jim said, recalling the conversation with Spock.

“His Mother would have understood. Sadly, he's been raised to be Vulcan. He can't just split himself in half and be who they want him to be. It doesn't work like that. He has human urges and feelings trying to be controlled by a Vulcan discipline.”

“So what do we do? Is he in danger? I mean.. could he do something... stupid?”

“He's not suicidal, Jim. It's just a thing that some people have. Like asthma. Or allergies. You do what you can to make sure you don't suffer from it, but sometimes, it gets out of hand, through no fault of your own. I sent him to his quarters to get some rest. If anything, getting kidnapped has helped him out. It bought it out in the open in a way he could never have done.”

“I'll go thank them then, huh?”

“I'm not saying they did a good thing but we can help Spock. Now we know, we're going to help him through this.”

“Of course.”

~

Spock stood in front of the mirror over the bathroom sink.

The antique dagger held in a firm, nervous grip. Since he had purchased the item, all those months ago back on Earth, he knew, eventually, it would come to this.

He closed his eyes, centred himself. He brought the blade up.

~

 

Jim had a habit of leaving his quarters perfectly tidy.

He knew exactly what was in his room when he left it. So, when someone left something in his quarters, like a PADD for signing, he knew about it. But especially when the thing left behind was an antique copy of Hans Christian Anderson's Collection. He looked it over, a bookmark at the start of the story of The Little Mermaid. He looked at it a moment, wondering where it came from before it came to him that Spock has an antique book in his quarters when they'd played chess there. He had mentioned it being a favourite of his Mother.

Sharing a bathroom with a Vulcan First Officer was pretty much the same as having your own bathroom.  
He had never ever walked in on Spock in the bathroom. And he had never come across any trace of Spock having used the bathroom at all. Not even a towel slightly askew. If it wasn't for the light on the door panel, which was lit green if someone was using the facilities, he'd never know the man used the room at all.

Today was the first time he'd ever seen evidence that Spock shared any space with him. The sink was covered in black hair. The floor too.  
Jim went to Spock's door and was surprised it wasn't locked. Spock was sat at his desk, hair cut so short that there was barely any left.  
He looked over towards Jim. One eye bereft of eyelashes, eyebrow half missing.  
He was wearing his black t-shirt, arms exposed and Jim could see clearly the patches of hair missing from his arms.  
It looked worse than he imagined.

“Jim?” Just one word, softly spoken, but it said so much to Jim. It was a cry for his help, something that Spock could never truly ask for himself.

“C'mon, let's go and see McCoy.”

~

“Okay, here we go,” McCoy said as he entered the private room in sickbay.

Spock was lying on the biobed, head propped up in a sitting position, Jim sat beside him like a concerned parent at the hospital with their child.

“I'm just going to try a little on your arm first, but it should work fine.”  
Bones used a special brush and pasted some of the clear liquid onto one of the hairless patches on Spock's arm near his wrist. “Okay, we'll leave that for 10 minutes make sure there's no adverse reaction, which I don't see there being. If it's fine, you can use that as needed. It'll suppress hair regrowth for as long as you want. It'll save you having to shave constantly.”  
Spock nodded but said nothing.  
“Is there anything you want to ask, Spock? Or anything else I can help you with?”

“No, Doctor.”

“Um... is this a common problem for Vulcans?” Jim asked.

“I've not known of it before, but I'm unfamiliar with treating Vulcans.” Bones said.

“A full-blooded Vulcan would not suffer from such a thing. It is due to my human half that I am afflicted with this. My Mother's weakness is also mine.”

“Spock, did you ever think that having to go through this, it gives you a strength a full Vulcan could never comprehend?” Jim said, willing Spock to believe that he was not the failure he thought he was. “They have their own issues, I'm sure. But you, you are able to maintain one of the most Vulcan attitudes I've ever seen. And you've been dealing with this the whole time, on your own. That blows my mind.”

“Shaving off your hair is a normal solution to put a stop to the problem when it gets out of hand.” McCoy chimed in. “you're effectively shutting down a harmful way of coping with life. That's a good thing. When you feel up to it, you can let it grow back. It's a temporary solution. There isn't a cure. It's just coping day to day.” McCoy watched Spock for a reaction but he gave the little back. “Jim, could you go get a spiced herbal tea, or whatever it is Vulcans drink and a scotch for me?” Jim nodded. “Sure. I'll be back in a bit.”  
He understood that McCoy was asking for some time with Spock on his own.

They sat in silence for a while. “You know, there's a laser treatment that can take all your body hair off in seconds. You just have to stand in a room with this machine and it'll do everything. It might be a lot quicker and less stressful than your way.”

Spock nodded. “What do you suppose the crew will say?”

“The majority will probably say very little to you about it, Spock. It's not really a human thing to ask difficult questions like that. Some may ask though. You should try and be prepared for that. Some people will be concerned for your health. It's up to you how you want to handle it. We can talk about how you can offer them a response that will reassure them without a lot of follow-up questions if you want.”

“That may be useful,” Spock agreed.

“People will understand you know.”

“I believe you are trying to assure me that it will be okay.”

McCoy smiled. “Yeah, I think it will be.”

 

~

 

Spock pulled his blue tunic over his head, pulled at the hem to straighten it up as much as he could.

He checked over his appearance in the mirror.  
His uniform was pristine, as usual, his stance perfect.  
His eyes travelled up until he looked back at his own face in the reflection.  
Not one hair remained.  
No stubble, no eyelashes, no eyebrows. McCoy's serum was working wonders keeping regrowth at bay.  
It was strange to only have the contrast of his eyes rather than the darkness of his hair against his pale skin tone.  
He barely recognised himself in the reflection.  
The corner of his lips turned upwards slightly.  
Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

He turned and headed out to start his shift.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to research and write this by Rebecca Brown's story. You can watch her video blogs on YouTube about trichotillomania. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed the story and will leave some feedback.  
> Thanks for reading. :)


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